Caught in the Act
by The Purple Scribblers
Summary: Danger always lurks in the dark... or shall we say, the best scoops?
1. Chapter 1

_disclaimer: We do not own Kin'iro no Corda. If we do, we'd make sure that Tsuchiura ended up with Mori :)_

**Caught in the Act**

"Kanayan," a querulous voice bespoke, tugging on the teacher's cream sleeve. Said teacher ignored him, comfortably leaning his hips on the desk without so much as a glance at the lime-haired upperclassman as he waited for their special _guest_.

Undeterred by the snob, Hihara Kazuki poked him hard on the ribs. Kanazawa, surprised by the jibe, drew back and could do little than glare at his pouting and impatient face when all he wanted to do was box him in the ears. But that would be too much, even for a lazy teacher such as he. Besides, he knew that expression Kazuki was wearing very well.

He leaned one hand on the surface of the wood, giving his undivided attention to the younger lad. "What do you want? Don't tell me you're hungry again." He sighed dejectedly. "You just had your lunch before this period. Now go back to your seat and stop pestering me."

But Kazuki stood his ground, mimicking his sensei's crossed arms. "I'm not hungry, sensei," he said in the same tone. "I'm bored and lonely and… and impatient! How long do we have to wait for the meeting to start and finish? If I wait any longer, I'm gonna end up like Tsukimori!" He jabbed a finger at the violinist's direction.

Following the trail of his finger, Kanayan saw Tsukimori Len glaring at everyone who dared to at look him, henceforth scaring the ladies in the room. Len's patience has always been thin when dealing with these kind of meetings, but Kazuki's threat was obviously a bluff and he told him so.

"And if your lonely, go talk to the girls over there," he continued, tilting his head towards the chatting female seated on the second row. "You could keep up with their pace. Or if you want to keep your masculinity, join them"—he indicated at the guys—"and do what guys ought to do… whatever that is. You could gladly leave me alone," he finished with a wave of his hand.

"But I want to ask you something that's why I'm standing here," Kazuki replied, his sensei's words falling on deaf ears.

He sighed. _This will never end_. "What is it?"

"When are we starting?"

He strangled the upperclassman… in his fantasies, of course, because he couldn't risk getting fired at such premature year of service. He kept his silence until Kazuki, not understanding his sensei's reason of evasion, skirted away with a muttered "_Stupid sensei_", which he ignored like a good adult, and settled into conversation with Ryoutaro, Keiichi, Junnosuke and Hasegawa.

* * *

**.**

Nami Amou, reputed journalist for the concours, arrived with the_ ever-charming_ Azuma Yunoki in tow three minutes and eleven seconds later. They had crossed each other's path, Azuma had generously explained to a curious Kazuki, and finding that they had the same destination in mind, proceeded upon going together so as not to waste precious time. Kanayan was not inclined to believe this, however, and resigned himself into leaving the room to get an aspirin from the infirmary due to a throbbing headache—caused by Hihara, no doubt. This left Nami in charge of the whole emergency meeting.

"Good afternoon, guys! Well, how do I start this… We have been called together by the headmaster due to a pressing matter regarding _our_"—she giggled—"I mean, _your_ summer excursions as a reward for your effort in the concours."

Tsukasa Hasegawa raised his hand. "Are we, accompanists, included in these excursions as well?"

"In the first area, yes; you play a very _important_ role in the completion of it—the same goes for the additional members. However, the second excursion will be reserved only for the participants and organizers."

"You mean, we get to have two trips this summer holidays?" asked Kazuki with an excited tone he could not contain to everyone's merriment. He flustered under their laughing eyes and twinkling smiles.

"Yes, Hihara-senpai. The first destination will be held in a shrine close by, some thirty minutes ride from the school and would last for a night." She frowned, a look of contemplation in her face at the following words: "The summer camp, your second destination, is somewhere in Kyoto, I think. I did not get to gather much information about it. " Looking up, she found Azuma's and Kahoko's eyes alight with mischief. "Now that I think of it, Kanazawa-sensei did not tell me anything about your second trip!"

Ryoutaro, sitting alone on the last row, smirked. "Better!"

"I think Kanazawa-sensei knows what is b—best for us, N—Nami-senpai," murmured Shouko shyly in a sibilant whisper.

"Eh?" In feigned surprise, Nami stared at her in wide-eyed innocence. "What do you mean Shouko-chan?"

Before Shouko could open her mouth to answer, Keiichi startled everyone with a question, having woken up from his five-minute slumber. "What are we doing in the shrine, senpai?"

Nami's innocent smile twisted into one of the devils'. "Why," she announced with a triumphant voice, "we will be playing, of course."

_This doesn't sound good_, Manami thought. Amidst the heavy rumble and grumble produced by the lads and scraping of the chair along the floor, she caught the eyes of Nami's sly orbs. She gulped down and watched as eight selected students unrolled their papers.

_This doesn't really sound good._

* * *

**.**

"So… Let's start with Hino-chan. Whose name is written on your paper?"

"It says "_Tsukasa Hasegawa_", Hihara-senpai's accompanist."

"Oooh, I knew I should have selected the pairs myself… Let's get on. Tsukimori-kun~?"

"Takato Mio."

"Eh? M—Me?"

"Good luck to you, Takato-chan. Don't frighten her away before the game begins, all right, Tsuki-kun?"

"Don't call me that!"

"Next. Yes, Fuyuumi-chan?"

"A—Ano, Yu—Yunoki-senpai."

"Hmm, not bad, not bad."

"Indeed. I promise to take good care of you, Fuyuumi-san."

"Hn. How about yours, Hihara-senpai?"

"Sasaki Junnosuke. Let's win this thing, Sasaki-kun!"

"Relax, senpai. Save your enthusiasm for later. The game has not even started yet. So it's Hihara-senpai and Sasaki-kun. That reminds me, why are you here anyway?"

"The organizer, Kanazawa-sensei, kind of requested—ordered—me to join, explaining that you lacked one person after Shimizu-san's accompanist was unable to participate. So I'm here at his stead. Oh, you can also blame Tsuchiura for that."

"Hey!"

"Hold you horses, guys. Continuing… Kobayashi Nao-chan, whom did you pick?"

"Nozaki Rie."

"Ah, Fuyuumi-chan's accompanist, eh? She's a bit shy but a bit outspoken as well. You'll get along… Oi, you there! Tsuki-kun's accompanist, is it? Who's your partner?"

"I have a name you know!"

"Well, whatever. Who's your partner?"

"Yunoki-senpai's accompanist."

"See, you don't even know her name!"

"You did not bother writing it here!"

"Of course I did. And don't say another word; you're not in charge here. Sheesh… So this leaves the four of you. This better have an interesting conclusion."

"I picked… Shoji-san's name."

"Did you, now, Shimizu-kun?"

A grin. "Ohoho, that means… Ohoho, now this would make an entertaining headline. Scoop~!"

"What are you muttering about?"

"Oh, nothing that concerns you, Tsuchiura-kun. Nothing at all."

Her carefully nonchalant tone suggested otherwise, and Tsuchiura, poor suspicious Tsuchiura, could not shake off the feeling that something was up in the journalist's sleeves. He gave his paper another look—the feeling of indefinite foreboding slowly creeping up his definitely long spine—of which says, _Mori Manami_.

* * *

**.**

**this has been revised by _jasmyr_ with encouragements from**_** tungaw-girl**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Caught in the Act: Finale**

Manami swallowed down the trickle of nervousness welling in her throat upon catching sight of the forbidding shrine up ahead with its roof highlighted by the illuminating full moon grazing across it. It sat atop a magnificent flight of staircases, which led them straight up to the shrine's entrance.

Built in the late 1300s by monks of the north, it was a picture of history and tranquility. It was once swarmed by devotees and scholars alike, seeking knowledge on the old religion. Ever since the declining number of worshipers, however, no sooner was the events of the caretaker's demise when the shrine was abruptly closed down and left to abandonment. Or so Kanazawa-sensei had said.

It still attracted various onlookers today, nonetheless, and given its striking features, it was quite a sight to behold.

During the day, Manami mentally added, eyes still glued on its exterior until the bus took a turn and it slid out of her vision. When the sun descended on the rear of the horizons, the temple looked more like a haunted ground than a holy place.

"Are we there yet?" asked her companion impatiently.

Manami shifted on her place in the window seat and glanced at Tsuchiura Ryotaro, his green hair disheveled from the past minutes' tugging. He had been in an irritable mood ever since they'd met up in front of the school gates awhile ago. She could hardly guess the reason for his odd behavior although she reckoned it may have to do with this trip.

"Actually, Tsuchiura-kun," she said, pointing at the window, "I think I just saw the shrine just now."

She shrank back when Ryotaro leaned on her, an arm resting above her seat as he craned his neck, alert hazel eyes raking outside. "Where? I don't see it."

"The trees must have covered it," she managed to gasp, her temperature rising a degree at their close proximity. She placed her palms on his chest, pushing at him lightly. "Uhm, Tsuchiura-kun, you're taking the breath out of me. Could you please . . . "

Apologizing, he awkwardly sat up but kept his arm where it was. "I'm sorry about that, Mori. I just want to get this over and done with."

"Get what over and done with?" a cheery voice chimed, a lime head popping up on the seat before theirs.

For a minute there, Manami had completely forgotten that she and Tsuchiura were not alone in the bus. They had been seated together with their partner for the sole purpose of planning out their strategies for the test-of-courage game. As far as she could see and tell, no one seemed to be doing what they were asked to do—

"Where's Sasaki?"

"Taking down notes and making illustrations."

—Well, except for Hihara Kazuki and Sasaki Junnosuke, who seemed intent on winning the race for some reason.

"This excursion," Ryotaro replied in response to his senpai's query.

Apparently, the older man lost track of the conversation for he turned perturbed, orangey eyes on him. "What about it?"

"Oi, Tsuchiura, don't tell me you're afraid to enter the chamber of horrors?" came Junnosuke's laughing drawl, his bum still attached to his seat. His voice was carried all the way down the bus and back, loud enough to cease every discussion in the public transportation.

Each pair of eyes, from the darkest of brown to the bluest of blue, latched on Ryotaro with interested scrutiny. The silence was deafening; the only noise coming from the engine.

And then there was a snort.

Looking past his shoulder, Ryotaro sent a derisive glare on Tsukimori Len, who gave him a supercilious look in return. Takato Mio, unfortunate enough to have picked the violin virtuoso as her partner—and vise versa—softly giggled, amused by their exchange.

"What's this?" Amou Nami, situated beside Kanazawa-sensei behind the driver's seat, deliberately demurred, propping her chin on her hands as she faced them. "Is Tsuchiura-kun not manly enough to finish the game?"

"Shut up!"

Manami stared up at him, her cyan eyes glistening with theatrical tears. "Are you truly scared, Tsuchiura-kun?"

He groaned. "Not you, too, Mori."

"Now, now, _children_, let's prepare ourselves and quit torturing Tsuchiura," Kanazawa-sensei murmured, casting an obsolete glance that made them feel like little kids again. Ryotaro's respect for the teacher almost escalated had he not added, "I mean, it's not his fault he can't bring himself to express his fears. That would be truly embarrassing."

Another round of robust laughter erupted among the espionage (a scoff in Len's case) as they readied their things while the bus gradually pulled to a stop.

Oh Kami-sama, he hoped the night would end soon.

* * *

**.**

Manami and Ryotaro wandered aimlessly inside the temple in complete solitude, giving their senses apt time to familiarize their vicinity. Darkness sniffed on their heels, their source of light produced only by the luminescence of the torch held by the man's hand.

They had already separated from the other pairs, seeking their own route to make the test more effective and frightening. Given the humongous size of the temple, it seemed unlikely for them to come across the other during the duration of the game. Why they were doing it in the first place was beyond Ryotaro.

And Nami's words "_. . . this would make an entertaining headline_" had haunted his every waking days and midnight dreams. This trip was a carefully disguised scheme; definitely a well-planned ambush: a loss for them, a gain for the journalist. Whether they were her target or not did not matter for he knew she had set her mischievous eyes and devious hands on them—Manami and he, Ryotaro.

"Mori," he called without looking, turning on a corner. "Don't cause any scenes, all right? And don't make those ear-shattering noises girls make in horror movies, understand?"

At the sudden suggestion, his silent companion gazed up at him in the dim night. "Eh? Why?"

"Tch. Just do it," he mumbled under his breath, sliding an ajar door to check for . . . err, bobby traps. _Reputation precautions_, he reasoned.

Still staring at him, Manami's dark eyes widened as realization dawned on her, then she released a low chuckle. "Hai, hai," she conceded in a singsong voice, raising a hand to do the A-okay sign. "Tsuchiura-kun, you don't have to be ashamed about it. As sensei had said, everyone has difficulty in expressing their fears."

Ryotaro stifled a grin, recognizing the teasing tone her statement held. "Careful where you tread on, Mori. You don't want to know what I am truly afraid of." Unaware of the curious glance the blonde was shooting beside him, he asked, "Do you always do that?"

"Do what?"

He took his time replying: directing the light on a particular room and silently closing the door after finding nothing out of ordinary. "Singing a word in the end of a sentence."

"You've noticed, huh?" Manami mumbled, her serene face transformed to an amused one. "It may have something to do with the piano," she admitted ruefully.

Regarding her with an astute, sideways glance, Ryotaro had to admit that she looked almost . . . divine beneath the moon's glaze. "Are you trying to say I might be singing my words in the future?"

That earned him a punch on his arm, which did not hurt a bit. "Very funny, Tsuchiura-kun. I meant to say that somehow, music found its stubborn way in my speech. Whenever I say a word, it . . . it seems to have acquired its own rhythm, you know."

"I don't know. I'm not very sentimental, fortunately." When she opened her mouth—to contradict his judgment, no doubt, and heaven knows he'd heard too much of those nonsense from his sister—he quickly added, "And that doesn't explain why you tilt your head."

"I do?" she asked in disbelief, unconsciously cocking her head.

His teeth were white in contrast to the pitch-black interior.

The upward jerk of her lips made them both halt in their amble.

"For an acquaintance, you're horribly—and stupefyingly—perceptive to my . . . ahh, habits. Tell me, Tsuchiura-kun"—she sealed the distance between them until they were far too close for his comfort, standing toe to toe, facing each other—"how long have you been observing me?"

His mouth parted, openly gawking at this newly-discovered side of Manami. Coquettish with a hint of playfulness.

Her starry eyes laughed at him. Standing on her toes, she tweaked his nose adorably. "Just kidding." There it was again, the singsong intonation.

Before he could give an intimidating retort in response to her mocking, a fearful cry reverberated throughout the abode. Glancing towards their right where the sound was most blaring, surmounting emotions flickered in their eyes—hers, bewilderment and curiosity; his, something in between frustration, delight, and grimace.

"Looks like the game has begun."

At that moment, they felt a tug on their hems. In unison they twisted their bodies to stare at the intruder. There was no one there. Then they looked down . . .

. . . and Manami released a bloodcurdling shriek.

Gazing up at them with blank eyes was a girl of no more than six-years old, draped in white powder and white dress and white everything, giving anyone catching sight of the kid the impression of a wandering ghost. A trail of blood ran down from her forehead and ending up in her jaw, crimson liquid dripping on the floor. Satisfied with her mission on scaring them, the child gave a curt nod and ran on the opposite direction.

Ryotaro let out a vicious profanity as he kept Manami steady on her trembling legs, keeping an arm across her shoulders. An undulating tremor passed over her body before she literally sagged on his side. He could only think of one way to appease her that her concerns were over: he carried her. Placing the torch on her flat stomach, he slid an arm under her knees and told her to link her hands around his neck. He felt a quiver run along his spine at the feel of her fingers.

Blind, he navigated his way around the hall, pausing only to open the door of an empty room. Gingerly, he settled Manami on the bed—he did not even consider why it was even there—then took the torch and surveyed the inventory of the area. It was bare except for the bed, a set of drawers seated across it, and a wall clock, its ticking nettlesome to his ears.

"I'm sorry about a while ago."

He turned at the silent apology. "Don't be. It's an anticipated reaction."

"I know. Still, I shouldn't have responded that way. The child just . . . surprised me. Her costume had me convinced that she was the real thing."

The suggestion in her words made him grin. "Do you believe in ghost?"

"No," she replied, shaking his head in emphasis. "Just telling the truth."

She made a move to sit up and Ryotaro was kneeling before her in a second. "Are you all right now? Could you stand up?"

She nodded, getting to her feet with his assistance. "Where do we go next?" she asked, once they exited.

"To win this thing, of course."

She giggled at his cocky response, her heart calming at his easy composure.

A cumulus had drifted over the moon, casting shadow on the ground. Wearily, she glanced up at the persisting cloud, a worried pucker appearing between her brows. She fervently hoped the blasted thing would move off.

To her right, there was a flicker.

"Tsuchiura-kun, what wrong with the torch?"

Sensing her anxiety, Ryotaro looked down at the wavering light. "The battery's probably going crazy. You don't need to worry. Sensei assured us that they're brand new so it wouldn't black out on us."

That was exactly what happened. The torch glinted on and off, then tortuously, slowly dwindled, leaving them in the dark.

"Oi, oi, what's the problem with this thing?" came Ryotaro's querulous voice as he tapped on the torch in vain, hoping it would turn back on. When it did not, he took out its battery from its place and put it back on. Nothing happened. "Tch!"

As his palms made contact with the batteries once again, his mind drifted off to last week's meeting. The memory caused him to bristle, the hair on his back standing.

_. . . this would make an entertaining headline._

"Ugh. That deceptive, scheming, she-devil! Sly, nine-tailed fox! Slippery, black, eel. I swear when I see that friend of yours, I'm going to kill her with my bare hands."

His grumbled tirade was met by silence.

"Mori, we have a problem. It seems that the juice—"

Her hands were gripping a fistful of his shirt by now, her blue eyes far away.

_She was once again trapped the aphotic cave, her stomach growling in hunger and her lips parted to call out Mama and Papa and onii-san's names._

"Mori?" He shook her hard on the shoulder to no avail.

"_Okaa-san! Otou-san! Onii-san! Can you hear me? I'm right here."_ _But her cries were only met by silence, frightening silence . . . and the knowledge that they may have forgotten her, left her made her desperately claw on things she felt beneath her fingers._

"Oi, Mori. Mori!" This time, he grabbed her fisting hand with the ones he used to hold the dead cells.

"_Please, please. I can't see anything. I'm scared."_

"Manami!"

Manami snapped back to reality at that point, breathing heavily, cold sweat trailing the sides of her face. She blinked in the blackness, but kept her grip on his shirt. He, too, had kept his hold on her.

"Mori, were you . . . do you fear the dark?"

She licked her lips, her breathing slowing down as she willed her anxiousness and gathered her strength together. "N-No."

"Just now, you were . . . " She gave him an intense look that made him shut up. Already, he'd grown accustomed to the dark; he was not sure about her though. "All right, I won't say anything about it. As I was saying, the batteries . . . they're out of juice. I think this is a ploy by Amou."

"Eh? But Amou-san would never do such a thing!" She exploded then, knocking the said batteries from his hands when she reached for it in utter incredulity. Realizing what she'd done, she let out a nervous "_I'm sorry!" _before going on all four and feeling the floor.

Ryotaro, who beat her by doing so first, knocked his head with hers, sending her backwards and landing on her bottom with a soft _thud_.

"Are you all right, Mori?" he asked, offering his hand to help her up.

Accepting it with one hand massaging her forehead, she replied, "I think so."

As he hauled her to her feet, however, he was unable to perceive nor feel the batteries that were under his feet the whole while, thus causing him to lose his footing, sending him plunging towards the floor again. This time, he had her pushed on her back, him sprawled over her in a somewhat awkward manner.

"Tsu-Tsuchiura-kun?"

Manami raised her head and was about to ask him if he's all right—knowing that she should worry about herself first—when he turned his face, too, all the while pushing himself up to inquire the same. Their lips brushed—a light, feather-like touch really—but it was enough to stop their worlds from turning. Two pair of surprised eyes—one, blue; the other, amber—met.

_Click!_

A flash and they were blinking as the sudden flash of light caught them temporarily blinded.

_Click! Click!_

By the third flash, Ryotaro had to react and with a tone bordering to irritation, said, "What the—Who's there?!"

Silence answered him and for a moment there, he thought something or someone outside their incarnate planes was actually causing real terror. But then came another flare though this time, it didn't flicker; more like a steady gleam aimed at them. As they rose their heads to see who it was, they saw Amou, a torch in her left hand, camera in the other, a sly smile gracing her lips.

"You!"

"Amou-san!"

"Hmmm . . ." The journalist grinned and Ryotaro felt his blood freezing cold then and there. "What do we have here?" she continued, her every word teasing and implying, very much that whoever heard her would come to understand that she was definitely up to no good. Well, on her victims' point of view, that is.

True enough, said victims immediately rearranged themselves from their positions of which, to some extent, was very suggestive and compromising.

"Heh~ So this was what you were planning all along, ne, Tsuchiura-kun?" Amou carried on, her tone insinuating yet her smile devious.

"I-It's not what you think!" the male pianist countered, his own voice close to being indignant.

"I didn't know you were the aggressive type, Tsuchiura-kun." A tilt of her head then, "Humans are indeed very unpredictable."

"WHAT?!"

"A-A-Amou-san!" Manami, who was silent all throughout their exchange, spoke for the very first time, her voice incredulous and her face exceptionally flushing.

"What are you doing here anyway?" the only male asked, all the while helping the female pianist back onto her feet.

"I get you, Tsuchiura. I'll leave you both to your _devices_ as soon as I'm done giving this to you," the brunette retorted, her scheming smile still on her face.

"That's not what I—"

"Here." She extended a hand at Manami, motioning her to receive it.

"What is it?" the blonde asked as she accepted what the journalist dropped in her cupped hands.

"Spare battery cells. I forgot that the torch we gave you got dead ones and so I was kind enough to bring you new ones. Here take it."

"Thank you, Amou-san." Delighted, Manami held the cells in her hands as if it was a life-line and she offered the journalist a smile, pure and relieved.

"No big deal. In fact, you two had actually done me a great favour. With the money I could get when these gets developed, I'd be rich." In saying so, she raised the camera from her other hand as she flashesdthe two pianists her most smuggest and complacent grin.

Sadly, the pair could only look at her, both dumbfounded yet each of them having different degrees of wide eyes and dropped jaws.

_Gotcha!_ And then came another. _Click!_

"See you at the exit!" Amou made her escape with her triumphant _Ohohoho_ echoing the deserted hall of the shrine, leaving the two piano players in their state of stupor. And as the journalist's words finally sink into their heads, they both cried in unison; his ominous, hers alarming.

"Amou!"

"Amou-san!"

And no one would ever know what had caused the athletic soccer player, Tsuchiura Ryotaro, and the composed female piano major, Mori Manami, scream so much they could possibly wake up the dead only to die again in fear.

* * *

**.**

**Omake: The Scream**

In one corner of the castle, two courageous and magnificent prince ventured further within the inner rooms of the hallways in search for a dragon to slay to save a damsel in distress.

. . . Which sufficiently translated to two craven and terrified high school students, a junior and a senior, arguing over which direction to turn to.

"I say we go left, senpai!" Sasaki told the limehead acerbically, the torch's light directed along the arrow on the paper he held.

Kazuki couldn't help pouting at his kouhai's sour tone. "I say we go right, Sasaki-kun. As your senpai and being much older and wiser than you, it's my right to impose an order and your duty to follow."

"Too bad you lack the necessary knowledge and wisdom on this field."

"Yes? I can't hear you, Sasaki-kun."

"Oh, nothing, senpai. Nothing at all."

"Hmmm. I could have sworn you said something."

They both fell silent for a moment, considering their options inside their heads (if there's any) and processing cons and pros technically.

"How about we split into two? You, on the left and I, on the right."

"Very clever, senpai."

"Are you being sarcastic?"

"No, of course not! I would never dare doubt the noesis of your mind. However, your strategy imposes a very important question: Who gets the torch?"

"I haven't thought of that."

Another lapse of silence.

"How about we go left?"

"Are you being witty, Sasaki-kun?"

"No, of course not! I would never dare . . . Baaaah! Let's go right."

Kazuki patted his slumped back patronizingly, saying in self-satisfied tones, "You've made the right decision, Sasaki."

In the nook to which they turned, they found a sullen figure of a girl with her head bowed, slouched shoulders and tiny arms clutched around her knees. Sasaki fixed his gaze on the child then exchanged glances and thoughts with Kazuki, whose confused amber eyes reflected on his.

_Is this part of the game?_

Sharing concise nods, they approached the child in white cocooned in the dark realm of the corner. As they neared, closing the gap between the girl and themselves, she tardily, dramatically raised her head.

Kazuki lost his everything—his manliness, his pride, his dignity . . .

. . . His soul, which floated tremulously over his head.

And his scream was so petrified that Sasaki, blast his arse, laughed and laughed and rolled on the floor, clutching his stomach until he swore his abs tripled.

"Gaaaad! I'm so glad we chose the _right_ direction."


End file.
